Emeralds
by The Story Lord
Summary: The Annual Winter Celebration is nearly upon the Elven Kingdom of Mirkwood. Legolas has invited Aragorn to help him, and his Father, prepare. Autumn is leaving, and how shall they fair upon Winter's arrival? Only time can tell, as strange events plague the Kingdom of Mirkwood.
1. Farewells To Autumn

Darkness fled from the dim candle light to the open arms of silence in the blackened corners of the palace. Ominous shadows loomed, as night had fallen not two hours ago. Yet all who dwelled in the palace had drifted into their individual dreams. Aragorn Ellesar slept in the room next to Legolas, and the room on the other side of Legolas, housed the hot tempered Dwarf, Gimli Gloin. None of them would have been here if it were not for Legolas father, the Elven King, Thranduil Greenleaf. He had requested not only the assistance, or more, the presence of Legolas, but of Aragorn as well. But Gimli was an exception that Thranduil had to make. Unwillingly. But nonetheless, everyone was here. Autumn's last leaves were falling, and Winter would soon be upon the Woodland Realm. The annual Winter Celebration of the elves would take place here, in Mirkwood. Elves from all over Middle-Earth would come. This festival was a royal pain in the neck to prepare for anyone involved. It was suggested that they all get a minimum of 8 hours bed rest before the next day, and it was so.

The night dragged on for only a time, and morning's softest light seeped like liquid gold through cracked curtains. Legolas awoke far before the others had a chance to realize the night had passed. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, and some parts of the kingdom were still shrouded in the dark. The palace was on the highest elevation, and the sunlight reflected off the golden-red tree leaves damp with dew, shimmering outside the tall windows. Legolas walked the halls, unsure of whether he should wake his friends or not. The dawn had just arrived, and even King Thranduil, his father, was not awake yet.

Legolas listened to the sound of his bare feet against the polished wood floors as he walked. He was dressed still in his silver silken sleep wear. His hair, unbraided. All was quiet. He rather enjoyed the silence. There had been so few moments of peace in the past week. There had been so many things to do, things to plan, situations to resolve. There was more to come, of course. The day would lead them into many arguments, he was sure. With Gimli here, there was bound to be trouble. Legolas' thoughts of the annual Winter Celebration came and went within the next hour. Fluttering by, and mixing with all the thoughts that followed him through his mind. Soon, he heard the sound of boots behind him. The footsteps were slow, and gentle. Aragorn.

"Legolas." Aragorn's voice was tired.

Legolas turned to see him, a small smile on his lips. "Aragorn. How did you sleep?"

"Well, my friend. What does the day bring?" He smiled in return.

"We are to discuss it when everyone is awake, by order of the King."

"Of course. Should you not be dressed?" Aragorn gestured to his sleeping wear, and unbraided hair. Which was a bit unusual to see. Legolas always had a braid in.

"Oh. Yes, I forgot." He ran his fingers through the golden strands that laid across his shoulders. He had indeed, forgotten.

"I will see to waking the others, while you dress." Aragorn walked past Legolas to do as he had said, and Legolas in the direction of his bedroom.

Time flew by quickly as hours passed, and the four of them, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and King Thranduil, were all standing around a table in yet another room in the palace. It was now mid morning, but the kingdom was quiet as ever. The only sounds to be heard, were the disagreeable voices of the men. The planning of the annual Winter Celebration proved to be as stressful as they had predicted. Morning turned to noon as the discussion finally ended, and King Thranduil retired to his throne room. Gimli was engulfed in a silent fit, due to his suggestions being completely ignored. He refused to leave the table in protest. But Legolas persuaded him to return to his quarters after only a few minutes. Legolas went to check with his father, that everything they had planned, was indeed, how he wished it to be, and it was.

Legolas left the throne room, and was startled to find Aragorn leaning outside of it.

"_Aragorn_. Why are you loitering here?" His face didn't seem to show any signs of surprise. Only the ever slight irritation.

"I was waiting for you. We have much to do."

"I'm aware of that. My father- he has a habit of changing his mind with these things."

"Yes, and speaking of King Thranduil," Aragorn raised an eye brow, and tilted his head slightly. "Why did he ask Gimli and I to assist him in this celebration? It is most strange to think that he would allow a Dwarf within a mile of Mirkwood, and I've no purpose here either. The King has servants to plan such events for him. Why are we all here?"

Aragorn gestured around him, with a questioning stare. This was all indeed quite strange. Although, he knew that Thranduil had no quarrel with him. In fact, he had a fondness for him. But they never had any social visits. It was especially strange that Gimli was _here_, and residing temporarily in the palace. Elves had no liking for Dwarves. The King of the Woodland Realm, held quite strongly to this.

Aragorn did not mean to pry, but knew that Legolas didn't mind. So he asked, "Why did he ask our presence? Why did he ask our aid?"

Legolas did not, infact, mind the questions. He answered simply, "Because I asked him to. However, now that the planning is over, you may leave if you so desire."

Aragorn had been somewhat worried that the reason had been something more serious. He was relieved to hear that it was only that his company was wanted. The first day they had spent here, was supposed to have been the day of planning. But the King postponed it for whatever reason. Now Gimli was free to leave, and so was he. Having the choice, Aragorn decided to stay.

"I think it is best if I stay awhile longer." Aragorn smiled warmly, and Legolas returned the smile.

Gimli stared up at them in frustration. He huffed angrily as usual, and the two men finally noticed him.

"I could have left _yesterday_!" He huffed once more before throwing his hands on his hips. "None of _my_ suggestions were _acceptable_!"

Legolas attempted to calm him down. "I'm sorry my friend, but the ways of the Dwarves, are not the ways of the Elves." He added a pat on the shoulder. "Besides, I think you would have stayed anyway." He wasn't wrong.

Gimli did leave that day, guided back home by a few Elves from the Mirkwood Guard. He would have left sooner, due to troubles involving his own Kingdom. But stayed as long as he could, knowing that however useless his input was to Elven Kings and little Princlings, Legolas both appreciated and welcomed his company. This was comfort to him, as the Dwarves had entered into a time of distress. In an effort to keep this news from reaching King Thranduil's mocking ears, he had told not even his closest friends of his unfortunate circumstances. Legolas and Aragorn only watched him go.

Autumn was fading fast, and Winter was on the gentle winds of the North. It would be upon Mirkwood in only three days time. The Annual Winter Celebration would take place on that third day. A merry day of the Elves, to celebrate the passing of Autumn, and the coming of Winter. It represented an end, a beginning, and soon a new year. Immortality was a thing that no elf thought much about. It was a common thing. Every year, for the rest of their forevers, they would celebrate it. To think, they celebrated ends and beginnings when once they had begun, they had _no end_.


	2. Ignorance Is Bliss

Two days had passed since Gimli's departure, and everything that needed to be done for The Annual Winter Celebration, had been done. The decorations had been placed around the halls and the throne room of King Thranduil's palace. The evening was warm, and the sky was clear. But a front moved in quickly from the Northern parts. At midnight, the air would become frigid, and frost would surely coat the grass instead of the soft drops of dew. It would be the first frost of the season.

Aragorn still remained in the palace. He enjoyed being with the Elves, having grown around them as a boy, in Rivendell. He spoke the language, he knew all of their ways, and he respected them. In turn, the Elves gave their respect to him as well. He had no reason to return to Gondor for at least another week. The atmosphere in Mirkwood was peaceful in all aspects.

Aragorn sat upright against the dark brown wooden bed frame. His legs stretched out, and crossed. His hands together in his lap, his eyes stared at the high ceiling. Vision out of focus, in a dreamy array of passing thoughts, like petals on the wind. Tomorrow would be the day of the celebration. He was, of course, welcomed to participate, and Legolas had mentioned that no one would mind that he was not an Elf. Afterall, he had aided the Elves in many situations. Why not stay awhile longer? No harm could come from a thing that everyone agreed on. Besides, Legolas could use the company. He had no real friends inside of Mirkwood. It would do Legolas good to have a kind face around him. Suddenly, a knock on the door pulled his mind back to his bedroom. Only two knocks. They were gentle, and calm.

"Come in, Legolas."

"Aragorn," The door opened, and Legolas slipped into the room, shutting it behind him. "What occupies you?"

"I was only thinking."

"Of what were your thoughts?" Legolas enquired.

"The celebration, the silence." Aragorn's calm manner, and tender nature made the thought of a conversation with him very desirable. If one wished to have a pleasant discussion, one could have it with Aragorn. If one wished to have company without words, one could have it, if one only asked. Often times, the latter was what Legolas was looking for. Now, he wished for almost both. Whatever their lingering came to, he would accept. The palace felt somehow odd after he awoke this morning. It may have been the changing seasons in the air, but he assumed not. Although, he had no clue what else it could be. Legolas gave his answer in a nod.

In serene silence, they spent most of the day together. In the evening the King called his heir away for some unknown reasons, and he returned to his friend much later, to bid him a good night. The day of the Annual Winter Celebration was upon them the very next morning. As predicted, by midnight the front had swept in from the north, and a thin layer of frost covered the grounds. The golden-red leaves on the trees seemed almost frozen in place. What remained of them. Snow began to fall by the wee hours of the morning, and in the glow of sunrise, one could look to see a beautiful white blanket glistening.

Just the sun shone, Legolas opened his eyes. Somewhere in the kingdom, a flute played meloncholy lullabys and sent them off on the breeze. The sound was soft, and far away. A pleasant awakening. He arose from his bed, and dressed for the day's occassion. His garments in silver, and his hair braided the usual Elven way. The buttons were white leaves, closely resembling those of Lothlórien. Legolas glanced in the mirror, before leaving to wake Aragorn. Lightly knocking, only twice, he opened the door before Aragorn gave a reply. A short grunt eminated from the pile of covers, as Legolas came close.

"The sun has risen, my friend. It is best we wake."

Slowly, Aragorn moved the covers and sat up. Squinting at the bright rays, he sighed.

"I am awake. I just wish to have slept more." He smiled, rubbing his eyes.

"You did not get adequate rest?" Legolas became concerned, as he had hoped that Aragorn would be well rested for the celebration.

"No, I did. It just would have felt much better to stay sleeping."

Legolas stared at him for a second, relieved, and Aragorn chuckled.

"I suppose it is because I'm human."

Legolas went to the door, looked back at him, "I will meet you in the throne room. You should dress." and he left. The winds outside the palace picked up gradually within the hour. It seemed that an unsuspecting thunderstorm was rolling in. Aragorn noticed it as he dressed, and allowed himself time to think clearly. Dark clouds loomed over the distant mountains. He wondered if this was a matter that the Elven King Thranduil might care to hear about. If so, the gate guards would surely tell him. Ignoring it, he tightened his belt. He chose not to wear the Elven garments that had been given to him. They were too snug a fit for him anyway. Leaving the room, he stopped to make sure he didn't forget his shoes this time. The strong brown boots were there. It was still the early morning after all.

He continued on his way to the throne room to see Legolas, and Thranduil. Two guards opened the doors for him, and he was met almost instantly by Legolas, who stepped out in front of him. King Thranduil sat upon his throne burning in silent anger. It was surprisingly obvious that he was upset. Aragorn looked questioningly at Legolas, and leaned in to whisper to him. "What has happened?" Before Legolas could say anything, Thranduil made sure he didn't.

"_Legolas!_" His voice was demanding, and unnervingly loud. Yet it was smooth, and laced with aggression.

Legolas turned around instantly to face him.

"_Come here_." Thranduil's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Aragorn standing there, and his eyes shot back to Legolas, who walked up to him with his head low.

"Yes, _Ada_."

"Carry out what I told you to do in the first place, and then when all is done, come back to me." His gaze narrowed in on Legolas, even though their eyes did not meet.

"I will, _Ada_."

"See to it." Grasping his red and silver trail, King Thranduil sat and watched his son leave through the nearby palace gates. He sipped his wine is displeasure. Aragorn walked up to the throne.

"Thranduil, of what need am I to you? You seem to have Legolas completing every task. Were we not suppose to complete them together?" Aragorn's manner calm, and respectful.

"That was the intended purpose of your visit. But my mind has changed, and I would like you to instead _only_ visit." He crossed his legs, and focused his attention to another matter regarding the celebration as one from the kingdom proposed a suggestion about the decorations. Aragorn knew, of course, that he wasn't holding anything against him, but rather punishing Legolas for some reason. Seeing as he was no longer useful to Legolas, nor King Thranduil, he decided upon leaving the next morning. If he were to stay for the company of his friend, it would be a fruitless attempt. For now Legolas would surely be too busy to see him at all.

With that, Aragorn left to see to his things. He would gather what few of them he had brought, and have it ready for the trip home. It was disheartening to think he had come all this way for nothing, and that he may leave his friend in ill eyes. Of course, he would discuss this with Legolas if ever he had the chance. For now, all there was to do was wait. He chose not to leave right away, for the storm rolling in over the mountains did not give suitable conditions to travel in. So he would wait the night, and in that time, it should have passed right over Mirkwood and beyond.


	3. The Storm In The Sky

Aragorn awoke in the night, startled by a loud clash of thunder and lightning that lit up the sky. The room was brightened in a blue tint for only a split second. He laid a hand over his heart, feeling it beat rapidly. The storm was right over Mirkwood. Cold rain fell heavy on the windows. It was a strange thing to see rain, when just yesterday, there was snow. The low temperature had not maintained itself. It was still only the beginning of Winter. It had some time to change the weather.

Calming his heart, Aragorn rose from his bed. He tightened his sleeping robes, and walked to the window. The lightning fought the sky, and thunder boomed through the air shaking the palace. This was indeed, a strong storm. It was a good thing that he hadn't left in a hurry. Looking out, he could see that the dark clouds hovered over a vast portion of the land. Sunlight didn't break out for many miles. Just over the distant mountains, a shred of light peeked through the veil. As he listened, he began to notice that there was music being played somewhere in the palace. It was hard to hear over the rain, but it was there. Such happy, joyful music. Faint Elven voices rang through the halls filled with cheer. For a moment, Aragorn wondered what the the reason for such joy in King Thranduil's Kingdom. Swiftly, he remembered, "_The Winter Celebration_!" Hurrying to dress, he berrated himself for forgetting it. This was the main reason that Legolas had asked him to stay. Now he would disappoint his closest friend. "_Curse me! Curse me! I am such a stupid fool_!" He nearly tripped on his way out the door. Bolting down the hall to meet the guards in front of the throne room. He caught his breath before speaking.

"_Dear friends_, have you but seen Prince Legolas?"

The guards looked at each other for a second before the one on the left replied with, "He is with the rest of the Elves, _Sir Elessar_. In the Banquet Hall with the King."

Aragorn quickly thanked them before heading back through the palace, and into the Banquet Hall. Once he had arrived, he noticed right away that Legolas was standing next to King Thranduil. Legolas remained quiet, and respectful. Never engaging in the conversation Thranduil held with an Elven woman, and his eyes seemed lost in thought. Aragorn sincerely hoped that he had not been sorely missed, and was only dismissed as temporarily absent. But it proved not to be the case, when Legolas' gaze caught his. He seemed genuinely surprised. But when Thranduil looked in Aragorn's direction, he was not in the least bit, _surprised_. However, he gave a slight nod of the head. Signaling his gratitude of his staying for the celebration. Only after this, did Legolas make his way through the large crowd of Elves, with wine in hand, to Aragorn's side.

Legolas sighed. "I did not think you would come, _mellon-nin_."

"_Uuma dela, _Legolas_. _I planned to, but I fell fast asleep before I was aware. I had forgotten it was this day. _Amin hiraetha_." Aragorn hoped his apology would suffice. To his luck, it did.

"Do not apologize, for all is well." He gave a warm smile to his friend. "I should hope that you will enjoy yourself while you are here."

"_Yes, of course_. Let us have wine, and _blessed_ be the night, _mellon-nin_."

They did indeed, have wine. Aside from the blaring storm, inside the palace, happiness reigned for hours past midnight. When all were asleep in their beds, the storm did not move on as the time crept by. It was predicted in the eyes of most, that it should have gone in the wee light of the next day. Legolas woke again at sunrise, but the sky was still dark, and the rain still poured from the clouds. He rolled over in his bed, pulling the silken covers up to his chest. Why had the storm not left? His mind wandered, but was pulled back as a bolt of lightning flashed through the sky and thunder followed. It was every bit as powerful as the thunder last night. This gave him an odd sense of discomfort. He felt the shadows in his room as if they were staring at him. It grew stronger as he closed his eyes and did nothing. What was this _feeling_ about? He had no answers for his own question, and attempted to fall back asleep. Sunrise was the usual time he would get up and walk the halls before his daily activities. Yet, he only wanted to _rest_ more, with the eyes of darkness upon him.

Aragorn sat in his bed, as he was unable to sleep anymore. The sun should have been shining through Elven curtains in soft beams by now. But the weather had not changed. He wondered when it would. Four knocks on the door.

"_Come in_."

One of the guards peeked in, and Aragorn sat up just a little straighter. Perhaps he was needed. It would do him no good to ride in weather like this, so for now, he was stuck in Mirkwood.

"The King would like you to see him, _Sir Elessar_."

"Five minutes,_ dear friend_."

The guard nodded, and left. Aragorn thought of the storm outside. Perhaps his meeting with Thranduil was about that. Perhaps he wanted his help with another matter. Perhaps not to both. _Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps_.

Thranduil sat high on his throne, watching Aragorn as he entered the room. The King's smooth, elegant features sharpened under the sting of his stare. Upset, yet again.

"_Thranduil_, you called for my_ presence_."

"_Yes, I did_." Decending down the carved wooden steps, he slowly came to face him.

"What is it you wished of me, _mellon-nin?_" He watched as his question cooled any anger that still boiled.

"This _storm_ was said to have _ceased_ during the night. But_ low_, it _has not_." His voice held some element of uncertainty.

"It will pass in time, as _all_ storms do, _no doubt_." Aragorn thought this storm only to be a minor problem for minor things. For those who _traveled_. He was _wrong_.

"_No_. Something _comes_ with the storm." Thranduil gazed up to the ceiling, and listened to the roaring winds that had not been there just minutes before. "The storm _worsens_, _Aragorn_." His gaze fell back on Aragorn's concerned eyes.

"What do you wish me to _do? _I have no way of rushing _any storm_."

"It poses _dangers_ to _travelers_. Stay for as long as the storm _persists_."

"_Yes, Thranduil_." He stopped to watch the towering Elf stand still in his place, looking Aragorn in the eyes, but focusing his attention elsewhere. "_Thranduil?_"

His eyes narrowed, and he blinked a few times. "The _rain_ is too much. It will _drown the crops_. There has not been a storm like this in _Mirkwood_ for nearly_ three _thousand years. _What force has awoken?_" The King whipped his robes out of the way and called to his guards.

"_Hammile'! Yilnlas!_"

The two guards came over quickly to accept orders.

"Close off_ all roads, all borders. _No one _leaves, _and no one _enters, but I hear of it_. Until _the storm _has gone."

Aragorn could only stand idly as King Thranduil attempted to protect his Kingdom from what he only understood as a little thunder, lightning and rain. He saw no _real threats _at bay. What was this man _going on _about?


	4. Unwilling Sacrifice

Thranduil left the throne room so swiftly that Aragorn couldn't even ask what was happening. All knew was that the storm was getting stronger, and had not ceased how it should have. What did he mean by a _force? Awakened? _The stubborn King hadn't bothered to explain himself.

Once again, Aragorn was left confused. He was about to leave after him when Legolas appeared in the doorway.

"_Aragorn_."

Aragorn jumped, obviously somewhat startled from his sudden entrance. Elves were so quiet, and light on their feet.

"_Legolas!_"

"My _Ada_ went _storming _to his quarters. What has happened, _mellon-nin?_"

"I _do not _know. He is being so _vague_."

"I _worry_ for he does not seem alright. Is he_ ill? _Do you know _anything?_" Legolas' tender eyes flooded with concern for his father.

"_No_,_ I am afraid not_."

"I should see to it that he does not make any _rash _decisions."

"Please do."

Aragorn watched Legolas _almost run _down the hall, but slow to a light jog as he passed the guards. It was evident that he sensed something to be _very wrong_. Aragorn sensed it too, and calmly followed Legolas' path.

Legolas knocked lightly on the doors of Thranduil's quarters.

"_Ada? _May I _come in?_"

There was no answer, and he paused before asking again.

"_Ada_, are you _alright? _May I _come in?_"

Once again, there was no answer. _Why_ did he not _answer him? _What was the _matter? _He felt his heart beat pick up as he pushed the door open just a crack. He was afraid of what he might find. His imagination ran away to follow dark roads. Only the candles in the window sill above the bed provided light. In the bed, laid _Thranduil_. His crown had fallen to the floor. Red berries and autumnal leaves spread over the wood. All of of his robes were still on. He hadn't changed. The covers seemed thrown over him. Not gently tucked like they would normally be. It was an _unusual_ sight. How could he have fallen asleep so quickly? It had been only _5 minutes _at best.

Legolas approached carefully. "_Ada?_"

As he examined the surrouding elements, he noticed that Thranduil's hand _held_ something. Uncurling his weak fist, he revealed it. A piece of _paper_. No, _a note _and a small _empty vile_. Legolas felt panic engulf him as he wondered of the _possible answers _he hoped were all the _wrong ones_. Legolas opened the note.

It simply read: "_Sacrifices must be made. The storm will pass."_

Upon reading such a thing, he began feeling his hands _tremble. _A _knot_ grew in his throat. _What did it mean? What was wrong?_

Words escaped his mouth before he gave them permission. _"Wake up, Ada!" _Shaking and pulling at the unconscious King Thranduil did nothing to wake him. Aragorn heard his friend's yell, and rushed to the room faster.

"_Legolas! What's wrong?_"

"_He does not wake!_" The note fell from his hand, but Aagorn caught it. Laying a hand on his shoulder, he tried to calm him down.

"Be calm,_ mellon-nin_. He is _breathing?_"

"Yes."

"Then you _musn't worry _just yet."

Legolas gave a nod of his head, signaling his agreement, and Aragorn glanced at the paper in his fingers. "Did_ Thranduil _leave this?"

"Yes. _Read it_."

Aragorn did so, and immidiately looked up at his friend. He had _no clue _what this meant. _What sacrifices? _Why was this _damn storm _causing _King Thranduil _to _frett? _Aragorn took note of the _vile_ still in Thranduil's hand.

"What is _that?_"

"I do not know. We should call for a _healer_."

"_Yes,_ _yes we should._"

The healer had come, and took his time to make sure that the _King of Mirkwood _was still in good health. Legolas and Aragorn stood outside the room, giving the healer space to work, and _waiting_. Finally, the healer opened the door to give the news. The two stared anxiously at the man.

The healer sighed, "He drank a potion that I have not seen in quite some time. It is composed partly of the magic of Elven ancestors. The good news is, he's alright."

Legolas stared at the healer questioningly. "There is _bad_ news?"

"_He will not wake up_."

Aragorn was shocked, and saddened. Legolas leaned against the wall, with a weak hand over his heart. _The Elf Prince_, under such circumstances, would be crowned _King_. Now_ grief stricken_, and _burdened with his Kingdom's weight_. His heart nearly _lept_ from his _chest_. His lungs _constricted_, and under the pressure of _every breath_, it proved_ too much_. In moments, Legolas' consciousness had fled from him like a _scared fawn. _The last thing he could remember was Aragorn reaching out for him as a black veil enshrouded his vision.

In his dreams, he wove a flower bed from light rays. He wove the mosses from mist clouds, and all the animals of the forest were born from constellations. It was a peaceful land, that man did not touch. But the dream didn't last long, and he soon woke. His eyes fluttering to life, and his heart back to a normal pace.

The healer was beside him, and Aragorn was sitting in a chair nearby. Legolas felt their eyes on him.

"How do you feel?" He heard the healer ask. Aragorn jumped to his feet, and came over to the bed.

"_Legolas?_"

"_I am fine_." He sat up slowly, taking in what had happened.

The healer left to stay by the side of King Thranduil, whom he was greatly dedicated to, and left the men in their conversation.

"You_ fainted_."

"_I am sorry, for I was weak_." Legolas didn't allow his eyes to wander any farther than his own hands.

"Do not _be sorry_. I understand. The recent events cause you _great distress_. Just know, _I am with you_."

Legolas laid back down in the bed for further rest, and closed his eyes. Words of encouragment were both wanted, and needed.

"Hannon le."

By the evening, the whole Kingdom had heard of the events that transpired within the palace walls. Rumors had spread of an _assassination_ to allow the young Prince Legolas to become King. There were other rumors going as far as to suggest that it was _Legolas himself_, who betrayed King Thranduil. Of course, none of which were true. Yet it sparked suspicions among the people of Mirkwood. Soon stories had spread all across the lands, and even to _The Shire _they journeyed.


	5. Whispers

Over the mountains, across rivers where peace and laughter were the most important of things. In The Shire, Hobbits did prefer the warmth of their homes as Winter forced the flowers to sleep until Spring was upon them. A Baggins' home always had a fire lit. There beside it, sat Frodo Baggins himself. He thought in his mind of his Journey back. When the Quest was over, he had sailed away, and he was never supposed to return. Not here, not to The Shire. Not home. He remembered what he had told his best, and oldest friend: The loyal Samwise Gamgee.

"The Shire has been saved Sam, but not for me."

Recalling his own words, he took a sip of his hot tea, and so oddly, he felt a sense of uncertainty. Just months ago, he had emerged from the woodlands on the border of The Shire. Feeling familiar grounds, he had made his way back to Sam. Knocking on his door, the Autumn chill in his bones, and tears of confusion in his eyes. He had no memory of anything before that, or after his leave. A light snow had started to fall outside, and Frodo turned his head to the window just in time to see the first few flakes. As if on cue, there was a soft knock on the door. It was Sam. Frodo knew that gentle, light hearted knock anywhere. He rushed to the door, it was freezing out there.

"Sam?"

"How are you feeling, Mr. Frodo?" There was excitement in his eyes.

"I'm fine, Sam. What are you doing out? It's freezing."

"Appreciate the hospitality, but-" He shuffled, hands behind his back.

"What are you up to?" Frodo attempted to see what he was hiding, but he quickly moved to avoid him.

"Not yet! It's a surprise!"

"A surprise? For what occasion?"

"A good one, I say so myself."

Sam took Frodo out in the cold of Winter, bundled in coats, they took the nearby forest trails where they found a familiar resting spot. Snow glistened along the trails, and they saw it in the evening light together. Sam with that old sense of awe and wonder, that Frodo wasn't entirely sure he still had. Of course, he still knew the beauty in such things. But after so much dark, the light became something so blinding to him now. It all felt dreamy, and so unreal. But seeing Sam again, seeing him smile, seeing him happy. It made his heart flutter in his chest. It was one thing that was worth seeing. The only bright, never dimming light, that didn't hurt. Sam showed Frodo the "surprise" he had hidden long enough. Fine pipes for the both of them. This was Sam's way of making some catching up for them both. Frodo couldn't tell him much, but was satisfied with just his company. They did what they hadn't done in such a long while. Sam could tell that Frodo had some sort of burden on his mind, but didn't quite question it. He thought that perhaps soon, he'd come around to tell him, and he did.

"Sam?" Frodo watched smoke curl up into the air like reaching fingers.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?" He turned to look at the pale face that nearly matched the snow, flooded with moonlight like the paths they took.

"When I left, do you remember what I told you?" His eyes stayed fixed on the smoke.

"Of course."

"Why am I here, Sam? I should have gone to Valinor. But I'm here." Frodo's voice displayed a stress that Sam had not heard in some time.

"I don't know, but isn't it a gift?"

"I suppose, but I must wonder. What was the purpose? In all my life, nothing I have witnessed, has happened for no reason." His eyes fell down to his chest, as he thought he had felt the ring on his skin. That familiar feeling.

"Perhaps, we weren't suppose to wonder. Perhaps, it is what it is."

"Perhaps."

And that was that, or it was for the night. After an hour of civil associations, the two parted ways and went to their beds. The next morning, a crowd had gathered outside of Frodo's home. They were all shouting for him to come out. He woke, rubbing his eyes and coming to the window to look out. Not much to his surprise, Gandalf stood amidst the many Hobbits. It was a somewhat unexpected visit from what seemed, a very old friend. Whilst it was still quite the normal thing these days.

Frodo came out upon his doorstep wrapped in a fluffy coat with a questioning glance towards Gandalf, who smiled and nodded a slow nod in return. The snow from last night had made a wonderful blanket all over the ground, and the trees reached into the crisp breeze with icicles hanging down from every which way. His neighbor's cheered in delight as bursts of bright orange and red ribbons exploded from a canister set in the snow. Which set off several others, and successfully distracted them so Gandalf might lead him away from the crowd and his cozy home. Once on a path devoid of white, Gandalf began his explanation before Frodo could ask.

"Listen here, Frodo. I've brought you out so that I might explain the very sudden situation that's come about, I'm sure you must know."

"A situation? You mean that crowd there." Frodo meant to sound sure of himself, but it was more or less still a question.

At this Gandalf raised his frosted brows, and looked down at the Hobbit. "Why, have you not heard?"

"Heard what?" He asked with a tinge of curiosity. But Gandalf fell silent for a time as they walked, thinking deeply and stroking his long grey beard. Frodo had little patience this day, and prodded him for answers.

"Come now, Gandalf. What is it?" But Gandalf kept silent still, not even sharing a glance with him.

"What is the situation? Tell me!" Frodo looked up at the towering wizard in a huff, and Gandalf finally broke away from his thoughts for a moment.

"Oh, ah! Yes, the situation." He turned towards his friend, and placed a hand on the little Hobbit's shoulder. A very suddenly worrisome expression took over the chill-bitten face of the old wizard, and it stirred up an uneasiness in his stomach.

"It seems," Gandalf breathed "that our friends Legolas and Aragorn have fallen into some interesting trouble. Along with Mirkwood as a whole, unfortunately."

"How? What's happened?" Frodo jumped to a new set of questions. His own face took on one of worry as well, but it couldn't be expressed as deeply. For he did not know the whole situation, and Gandalf would not tell him now. He only heaved a weighty sigh, and told the young Hobbit that he must make the journey to the Woodland Realm and speak to his friends. Why he must go, or what had happened, remained a mystery even as he packed for another adventure hours after the wizard had left him standing cold and confused.

Gandalf always knew more than he shared, Frodo knew this. It was fact. Now these new troubles sat on his shoulders, and he hoped he wouldn't need to be a center piece to them soon. Hopefully, it could all be sorted out quite nicely. Though, the whispering folk on the roads the next morning seemed to tell him that it was going to be a difficult time. But he swore to Sam as he said his goodbyes and see-you-laters, that it could never be more difficult than the quest to destroy the ring.


End file.
